


Get a load of this guy's Bitchcraft

by ar_guile, popps



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Short Chapters, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ar_guile/pseuds/ar_guile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/popps/pseuds/popps
Summary: Cloud's been doing alright. He's been putting his life back together after the havoc Sephiroth wreaked on his heart, mind, and... soul? Just when he thinks the business with Him and his Jenova cult is behind him, something comes along to push his head back underwater.Witchcraft instead of mako. Slow build, unhealthy relationship. Short chapters
Relationships: Sephiroth & Cloud Strife, Sephiroth/Cloud Strife
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	1. It's not a thread of fate, that's just your longass hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long disappearance, Cloud has emerged from his soul searching to help Tifa with her wildly successful bar. Tifa, on the other hand, just wants to give Cloud a chance to get back on his feet. It pains her when he doesn't take care of himself. But he's been doing so well lately, how much could things change in one day of errands? More than either of them would hope.
> 
> cw: none for this chapter

* * *

Cloud kept thinking about the look on Tifa's face that morning. She'd seemed anxious while she made tea, keeping the conversation lighter than her voice strained to be. He didn't miss her brow furrowing as she'd poured two cups, or how she'd smiled up at him when offering one to him. She'd waited for him at the counter while the tea cooled, resting her elbows behind her and occasionally bringing the cup to her lips— Not to drink, but to blow away the steam that rose in pale wisps. Cloud felt her tension in the air, but didn't notice until he was half finished that loose leaves had settled to the bottom of his cup.

He'd almost raised an eyebrow, asking her if she really believed in telling the future in the tea leaves. Even then, still swirling leaves at the bottom of his cup, he already knew. Her gaze had fallen to her fingers, wrapping around the warm porcelain of her own cup, and she asked him to just have breakfast with her. So he did. He let her talk about the bar, about her plans for the weekend, about planting some window boxes when the weather was warmer. Cloud had watched her shoulders relax as the minutes ticked by. His did too. It was easier to breathe with her here, he almost admitted to himself, but he had an appointment to keep. Something that he had to do himself.

With a scrape of wood against wood, he'd pushed his chair back and stood. The two locked eyes for a moment, but neither of them could bring themselves to admit how quickly the air thickened as he walked to the door. The silence stung. She gave him good luck, and he gave her goodbye. She stood behind his empty chair, smiling through her tension. They both pretended not to notice that he'd left a shallow pool in his tea cup. It was all she needed for a reading, he gave her that much, but Cloud was already out the door. He already knew what today was bringing him. Some deep throb told him exactly what his path would bring him to.

But he didn't expect it to be so mundane. It was just a Tuesday morning, the sun shining cool and uncertain in the early spring chill. Cloud pushed through the doors of the insurance office and into the dewy morning, his mind still chewing on the balance between "I should have gotten collision coverage" and "if I get into an accident on my bike, I'll just be dead anyway". He didn't anticipate the latter, especially on a morning like this. It felt like new beginnings, not an abrupt end. As the door settled back into place with a solid *thunk*, the unread warning from the tea leaves came true.

"Hello, Cloud," came a familiar greeting, just as smooth as when he'd been told goodbye. His blood froze before his eyes could focus on the silver haired man before him. Wrapped in a black coat, his skin stood stark and pale against the sprouting greenery. The breeze toyed with his hair, letting it flow and dance as if gravity couldn't touch it, but what haunted him wasn't a spirit.

Sephiroth.

Cloud wanted to believe that a hundred ways to banish him were waiting to burst out of his chest, but all he could do was stand and watch him approach. He was underwater, in the darkest depths, and the cold leeched the life from his bones. "You've been taking care of yourself," he commented, the violent green of his eyes drilling every syllable into Cloud's heart. "It's a start."

He turned away then, his statement made. Cloud's eyes lingered on him for a second, his silver hair and the scent of coffee drifting in his wake, before he disappeared through the door. Only then did Cloud's lips part, a single syllable punching through the ice in his chest.

"Shit."


	2. Please don't bless this pineapple, it's been a long day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has to make a living. Cloud's just trying to get today's job done. Not magic. Not anything more intense than getting groceries. He's not asking for much, but if it's not exes trying to claw their way back into his life, it's strangers in a grocery store being... strange.
> 
> cw: brief magic mention

Every time his phone buzzed, Cloud felt a charge in his veins. If someone were trying to contact him, he could easily have let it ring until the call went to voice mail, or let the text message sit unopened for weeks, but now he couldn't help himself from taking a look. Just to see who it was. Just in case. Cloud leaned against a table, pulling his phone from the apron Tifa gave him and unlocking it with a well-practiced thumb.

_Him again._

Cloud frowned down at his phone, correct, but not happy about it. They'd only run into each other yesterday, but he was over his cold shock already. It turned out the embers were still burning from the chaos before their breakup. Cloud still held everything against him, even years later. Now that grudge seemed increasingly one-sided. The only thing worse than Sephiroth showing up again was that he acted as if nothing had happened between them.

《Where are you staying?》

〈That's none of your business 〉

《With Tifa, then. How generous of her.》

Cloud scoffed down at his phone, glaring down the blinking bar that begged him to send back a scathing reply. It figured that just as he'd started to put some kind of life together, it would be right back to this. He had decided not to tell Sephiroth anything, no matter how insignificant it seemed, but he didn't have to pry hard. It was like he could read Cloud like a picture book, not even trying, but getting everything he wanted. Cloud pushed down a stubborn dread that the cord between them wasn't as cleanly severed as he'd--

"Cloud? What's wrong?" Jerked out of his thoughts, he turned the screen off with a start. He met Tifa's gaze, her red eyes soft with concern. Cloud pulled himself off the table he was leaning on and glanced around the dining area. Dinner rush hadn't started yet. Customers were starting to trickle in, but Wednesday nights weren't the strongest crowds. Tifa took a step closer to him, one hand clasped around the other forearm. "You can talk to me."

"It's nothing.” He’d been saying that more often again. He didn’t like that, and Tifa was picking up on it too. "What do you need next?"

When Cloud found Tifa this morning, she’d been pacing up and down the empty restaurant like a caged tiger, phone pressed to her ear as she made call after call after call. He’d approached her, asking what was wrong, and before he knew it he’d agreed to cleaning up tables for the rest of the day. Being a busboy at Seventh Heaven wasn’t what Cloud pictured when he came back to the city, but he realized he was starting to recognize some of the regular customers. And they were starting to recognize him.

Now that things were under control, and Cloud was the one reassuring her of that, Tifa looked unconvinced. She peered into his face, looking deep into his eyes. He slid the phone into his apron pocket, not giving an inch. After a moment she let out a breath, pulling a folded paper from her pocket. "Our last shipment was short a few things, we didn't realize until now. Would you be able to make a supply run?" She held it out to him. She might have been wearing a smile, but even Cloud could see the tired, pleading look in her eyes.

"I'll do it," he answered, plucking the paper from her hand. It was a list, of course, and nothing on it would be too hard to get a hold of. "I'll have receipts for--"

"Take the company card. It's about time you have one anyway, right Cloud?" Her momentary cheer flickered away. "If you're going to stay, of course." He extended his hand out to her, and with renewed energy, she pressed a credit card into his palm. "Thank you, Cloud. You're really coming in handy around here."

"That's news to Barret," Cloud shot back, turning away from Tifa. He headed out the back door, dodging needy patrons and their endless requests for more napkins. His motocycle was parked in the alley out back by the dumpster. It just seemed right.

Once the bustle of the bar was silenced behind the back door (locked, of course, in case someone tried to sneak in to steal their giant jar of maraschino cherries again), Cloud's first order of business was stuffing the apron into one of his bike's saddlebags so no one would think he was an AWOL busboy. The second order of business was pulling on his helmet. Now that he was insured, he may as well survive any accident he got into on the clock.

When the engine roared to life, he could finally take a breath.

As he darted through rush hour traffic, Cloud's mind wasn't on the cars around him. All he could think of was the buzzing of his phone cushioned in the folds of his scrunched-up apron, buzzing like a gnat that he couldn't wave away. Buzzing in his ear, even though there was no way he could hear it over the rumble of the engine. Three stops, three pickups, three separate times where he forced himself not to dig the thing out from the saddlebag. He knew he was imagining it. There was no way he could feel any vibration over the engine, especially when the phone was wadded up in an apron under all of Tifa's deliveries.

As he pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store, his last stop, he finally relented. With an audible groan, Cloud unlatched the flap of a saddle bag and dug through, pulling out his apron like a dead animal. The back of the phone was burning hot from the ride, and he could see a line of notification icons on his lockscreen. This wasn't something he wanted to be right about. Tucking his helmet under his arm as he rounded his bike, he scrolled through the new messages instead of heading straight to the store.

《You must be her errand boy now.》

《Congratulations are in order. It's what you'd wanted for years.》

《Have you put everything else aside for this?》

《You'll have to try harder than that, Cloud.》

《You can't hide forever.》

Besides the burning of his fingers from holding the overheated phone, Cloud felt another heat building beneath his collar. He wasn't hiding from anything or anyone. He'd moved on, but Sephiroth-- No, he couldn't get angry. Tifa was right. That was letting Sephiroth get into his head, and Cloud refused to play his mind games again. The pad of his finger pressed on the edge of the case and Sephiroth’s scolding faded to black.

With the phone back in his pocket, Cloud fumed his way into the store. He didn't notice the wide berth around him, not when his jaw was clenched from all the curses he wouldn't say. Before long he’d pushed it all to fester at the back of his mind, and he found himself standing in the juice aisle. Crossed arms and staring down the near-identical cans of pineapple juice, Cloud had a job to do. No more distractions. With a critical eye, he gauged which can was the largest he could stow away with the bike's limited cargo space. He’d definitely have room for a couple of regular sized cans, like condensed soup, but the unit price wasn’t worth it. $3 an ounce? No way. If he moved things around, he could probably fit the largest can, and the bulk price looked a lot friendlier for Tifa’s bottom line... "This looks like it," he murmured to himself as he reached for the one that looked more like a drum than a can, but another hand placed itself onto his.

He pulled back like he'd been burned, looking to the woman the hand belonged to. For a second, she looked just as surprised as he was, but the tension between them shattered as she laughed. "Looks like we're on the same wavelength," she said, reaching back toward the juice. Her curled bangs bounced a bit as she leaned in, cradling it for a moment as the weight settled into her arms. At least three of her bracelets chimed dully against the can. She held it close, seemingly content with moving on with her day, but that didn't last long. The woman had finally loaded it up, and now she held it out to him-- or at least tipped it toward him slightly. "Here. You beat me to it, take your prize," she offered, as if it were a graceful defeat.

Every movement she made, there was an energy to it. From the sway of her braid to the shuffle of her boots against the tile floor. It was so bright that even he could see it, no matter how he tried to shut away anyone that wasn't on his (very short) list of friends, he could feel the warmth radiating off her even through his leathers. He didn't even know her name, and something told him this wouldn't be the last time she crossed his path.

...But more importantly, Cloud never knew what to make of people who started conversations with complete strangers in grocery stores. "Just take your juice." He felt his pocket vibrating again, the buzz just audible over the white noise of the store. Not the time. The girl hummed, her bright green eyes running over him like she was coming to some sort of decision. 

"No, it's yours." 

"It's fine."

"Don't be so stubborn," she said, taking another step toward him, pushing the gallon into his suddenly open hands. She smiled, pleased. "You don't need to thank me, this one's on the house." Her lips were parted in a silent laugh, triumphant. He felt his phone again, distracting him for less than a second, but in that time she'd turned away, grabbing a can of something entirely different as she walked back up the aisle. Had she even looked at what she took off the shelf? What had she even been there for?

So there he was, holding a giant can of pineapple juice. Somehow he could still feel that energy, something light but secure, even after she'd gone... No, it was what she left behind. "You're kidding me." She'd left a blessing on that juice. In those few seconds, she'd filled it with some unknown-but-helpful intention, without a single word or rune, or... anything.

So this was what it was like to be back in the city.

And all that only cost him $11.


	3. Red is suddenly my favorite color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't always like this. There was a time when Cloud looked forward to hearing Sephiroth's voice...
> 
> cw: none for this chapter

* * *

_How many years ago?  
It's been a few now._

The magic started when the tip of the match burst to flame. Cloud tipped it down into the candle, lighting the well-trimmed wick before meeting Sephiroth's eyes. It wasn't a spell, but seeing the warm glow on his cheeks always felt like one. He placed the candle aside on a table and sat back onto the couch. More accurately, he melted into the cushions. After a long day at work, it was nice to just exist with his boyfriend without his mom hovering over them.

"A red candle. Interesting choice," Sephiroth hummed. He sat on the opposite side of the couch, a book open in his lap. He'd been reading when he sent Cloud the message to come over, but now his attention was on him entirely. Cloud glanced to the candle, the hollow peaks of wax glowing red around the flame, before returning the look.

"I don't know where any others were," he said in his own defense. None of Sephiroth's candles had jars or lids either, just bare wax columns that sat in a plate. Not like the ones his mom had. Hers came from Wish, and all their colors meant was what scent they were supposed to give off. This was a different kind of system. Cloud was still memorizing what the colors symbolized, but this one was... Good luck? Passion? Oh... Passion. Suddenly, Cloud's face was just as red.

He leaned up toward the candle, but Sephiroth laid a hand on his shoulder. "Leave it." He did. "What would be the use in putting it out now? Let it burn. Maybe it was meant to."

Cloud eased himself back into the couch, curling his knees up to his chest. He recalled Sephiroth telling him about this candle specifically, when he'd lit it before Cloud left for an interview for college enrollment. It was for confidence, he was told, so he wouldn't bite back at any hard questions or keep upping the tempo during his audition.

He didn't make the cut, but he did believe it had some effect.

Silence fell fast with both of them, but when Cloud was with Sephiroth, he always felt the need to end it. "Is it just us here?" he asked, peering through the open arch that led from this den to the rest of the house. He saw nothing and no one in the darkness, but even a couple months after Sephiroth had called it a relationship, Cloud wasn't sure he'd seen every room yet.

"In this house, never," came Sephiroth's less-than-comforting answer. "If you're asking about my father, yes, he won't be coming home tonight." There was a trace of satisfaction in his voice, the opposite of how he usually spoke about his dad. Cloud breathed a sigh of relief, letting his legs unroll until his feet touched the floor again. "Or the rest of the week. He's away at a conference, presenting his research to the best and brightest."

"What does your dad study?"

"Hm."

Sephiroth was back to his book. Wrong question. Cloud looked around the room for the hundredth time, picking out something new every time he came here. Some strange instrument, or an artifact that his father brought home to... study. It didn't seem cluttered somehow, even being surrounded by ceiling-high shelves of books and weird knickknacks. The whole house was like a museum. Sometimes, when Sephiroth's interest settled squarely on him, Cloud felt like an exhibit. Some days. Right now, he felt like a dumb kid on a field trip.

"About magic."

"Hm?"

"Is that like crystal healing?"

"For some."

"What about tarot cards and seances?"

Sephiroth shifted in his seat, glancing up from the pages for a moment. He paused, appraising, before reaching to the small pile of books that sat on the table with the candle. His fingers brushed the spine of a leather-bound tome, then he passed it along to Cloud. The weight settled into his open hands. Concentric circles were recessed into the book, filed with symbols Cloud didn't recognize, and glittering silver in the candlelight. He looked up to Sephiroth, whose lips were curled into a smile.

"Start here," he instructed.

And he did, eagerly.


	4. What do you think you're doing awake?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the here and now. Last call came and went. Cloud's gone back to his room, but even though the rest of the world is going to sleep, something is keeping him awake. Maybe someone?
> 
> cw: none for this chapter

* * *

It became quiet as the night wore on. The air conditioner of some nearby building rattled, a car passed by in the darkness. Cloud layed back on the bed he was given, resting his head and staring into the whorls in the ceiling. The dim light from a digital clock bathed the bedroom in a familiar glow. A different town, a different room, but the way it counted down the minutes to sunrise was universal. The world was slowing to a stop around him as the city went to sleep. Alone here in the darkness, his mind made only one request. A request he would deny, as many times as it came up. He pushed it away, took anything else in. Every moth against the window, every muffled voice from the sidewalk below, but it was so far away from him.

He liked being alone anyway.

He rolled slightly to the side, letting his cheek rest on the pillow as his hip and shoulder settled into the mattress. A breath eased out of him, like he was melting into the sheets. It should have been a relief. It wasn't. From this angle, he could see the green light of his phone charging, barely peeking over the edge of his pillow. His eyes lingered on it for a moment, two, ten. His fingertips could already feel the glass, his palm could feel the weight. Cloud's brow furrowed. Denied, denied. He closed his eyes, waiting for his mounting fatigue to take over, but a weight in his chest refused to let him slip away to slumber.

As if drawn like a magnet, or pulled by a string, Cloud's hand snaked beneath the pillow and curled around his phone, skimming over ruffles in the sheets as he dragged it back. For a moment it sat in his hand, face down against the bed, as he felt another wave pass over him. It was like exhaling all the heat and tension he'd been holding in his chest, and filled it with something more cool and comfortable. The phone screen flipped up at him and he squinted at the light.

A thumb hovered over the screen, lost on his own phone. Cloud unlocked it slowly and deliberately until the home screen laid out every app and option before him. He didn't check his missed calls or voicemails, as if by looking at them, the senders would know he was avoiding them. Instead he found himself skimming through his messages from the past few days. Tifa. Jessie. A spam bot. And... Sephiroth.

Denied. Denied.

But he looked anyway.

He hadn't gotten any more messages since that afternoon, and the long gap in conversation was... wearing on him. What was Sephiroth going to send him next? Antagonizing him over not having a 401k? Holding pictures over his head in exchange for more of his time? Cloud frowned at the last message he'd sent Seph, brushing him off again. Scrolling up, his eyes drifted from message to message, reconstructing the conversations backward under the green glow of the alarm clock.

And then the messages came to an abrupt end. After their final confrontation, years ago, Cloud had purged his phone of Sephiroth even existing. Now he wondered what he could glean from those deleted conversations.

Denied.

He scrolled back down to their last messages and let his phone fall from his hand and into the bed. Cloud could hear voices outside again, some indistinct conversation on the street. His gaze bored into the phone case, staring dead and blankly at the edge of the volume buttons. How were his body and mind so heavy, too heavy even to sleep? Somehow his heart beat in the black hole inside his ribs, rustling the veins in his neck and ears against the pillow as his eyes glazed over.

The phone was in his hand again.

〈 Why are you here? 〉

Cloud stared dumbly at the message his thumb had typed out of its own volition. He was trying to exorcise this man from his life, he didn't care why Sephiroth decided to inflict himself on his life. But still, wide blue eyes watched the screen unblinkingly. Cloud was past tired, and he knew that Sephiroth wouldn't send him an answer past 3 am, shouldn't want a message from the man he was trying to cut out, but he waited anyway. Motionless. Thoughtless. Timeless. 

[...]

A spike through his heart.

《I returned home a long time ago. Did no one welcome you back?》

Cloud stared through the phone. This wasn't his home. This was... where he'd come to become someone else. Someone better. Someone he failed to become, but that failure molded the person he was now. He held on to that, even as his head spun in fatigue.

《You can start again. I'll take care of it. Get some rest for now, we'll talk tomorrow.》

That message burned into Cloud's eyes until the screen dimmed, and then even after it went black. He felt the same way. At some point, his eyes drifted closed, and he fell asleep with his hand wrapped around the cell phone. While the words of the message couldn't pierce the fog of his mind, the meaning quietly seeped into his dreams.

_Do you remember, Cloud?_


	5. Homework for a baby witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Cloud spent researching magic under Sephiroth's supervision turned to night, and night turned back to morning. Now it's time to prepare for a practical application. Cloud had thought they'd be working from a book for this, but Sephiroth has a more personal lesson plan in mind... Or is that just wishful thinking?
> 
> [Continued from Chapter 3]

* * *

_It was years ago, but Cloud still remembered._  
_Some firsts are better than others._

The soft sound of a pen scrabbling across paper filled the room to bursting. Cloud's hand cramped, holding the pen tighter as he fought the English language for just a crumb of inspiration. He wasn't a poet. Brow furrowed, he glared down at half-rhyming attempts at the assignment Sephiroth gave him over lunch. It seemed so easy when it was proposed. He would write the spell. Sephiroth would direct the rest. In music and now in magic, they were student and master, but Cloud wasn't quite the star pupil of the occult. "Are you sure two lines isn't enough?"

Sephiroth glanced up from his side of the kitchen table, where he'd been practicing the fanciest calligraphy Cloud had ever seen in real life. The two were alone in Sephiroth's father's house again— Or it would have been 'again', if Cloud had gone home after his first introduction to magic the night before. The memory of feeling Sephiroth lay a blanket over his self-conscious body as he passed out mid-chapter was still warm, but today's discussion was strictly business. "If the two lines will get you what you want," he answered in a leading tone before his eyes returned to the soaring loops and knife-edged points of his own writing. "Remember that you're asking for help, not making an order."

Cloud looked back down at his lines, not too sure they would impress whatever power Sephiroth was having him reach out to. The page was covered in crossed out rejects, and at the very bottom was a pair of lines. The pen had hovered over them almost as long as the rest, but he couldn't find it in him to scratch them out. They just... felt honest.

> Let some money come her way  
>  Enough to get through, day to day

"Yeah," he answered with finality. He put the pen down and exhaled hard, leaning back in the chair. Cloud had spent the night alone with Sephiroth and his book collection, reading until his eyes couldn't take in any more words. Even now, at the crack of 1:30 in the afternoon, he could feel the weight of the long night in his chest. Somewhere along the line, his excitement had faded. No, he knew exactly when the buzz wore off. It was when this started feeling like homework.

Sephiroth extended a hand to him, and Cloud perked up again with the anticipation of his work being judged. As always, his face was beautiful, but impossible to read. There was a long pause as his eyes lingered a little higher than the final product, and Cloud's stomach turned as he realized Sephiroth was reading his first drafts.

"Who is she?" he asked. With anyone else it wouldn't have stood out, but Sephiroth's usual cool tone was shaded by something else. Realistically, interest in the spell. Optimistically, interest in… the one who wrote it. Whichever one it turned out to be, Sephiroth didn't seem interested in handing the paper back yet, so Cloud was stuck squirming under the microscope a little longer.

"My mom," he admitted. Now that he was saying it out loud, it seemed too much like something a kid would do, not an eighteen year old man trying to prove himself after failing at the first hurdle. With resolution, Cloud dragged his gaze back to his tutor, but when he managed, he found himself smiling. For the first time all day, Sephiroth's eyes shone with some emotion Cloud couldn't put his finger on.

"Your mother," he repeated. He seemed a million miles away, and not in the usual way that Cloud could never keep up with. Almost… nostalgic? Hopeful? His lips were soft, parted for a moment as the word lingered on his breath before curling into a smile. Then all at once, he was more present than ever. Sephiroth's eyes had a violent energy, green piercing straight into blue. "Good. We'll cast it today. Now, the preparations..."

Even when he wasn't singing, Cloud always found himself wrapped up in the sound of Sephiroth's voice. As he listed off herbs and their locations around the kitchen, Cloud was happy to follow his directions. After a few minutes he'd collected a tiny salad of dried herbs, and when he returned to Sephiroth, he exchanged them for a bright goldenrod piece of paper from his calligraphy stack.

"Write your spell in the center of the paper. You'll pack the herbs in, then you'll send it to her."

"Through the mail?"

"Through the wind."


	6. Out of the frying pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who could sleep after a conversation like that? Doing what he does best, Cloud avoids his nightmares by running away— Just a little bit longer. He'll face them tomorrow, like he planned.
> 
> ...When does anything go according to plan?
> 
> [Continued from Chapter 4]

* * *

《You can start again. I'll take care of it. Get some rest for now, we'll talk tomorrow.》

Stars didn't shine in this city. The sun hadn't risen yet. With only the new moon as his witness, hidden somewhere in the darkness, Cloud slipped out the back door and into the night. Even with his breath escaping in thin white puffs, he left his jacket behind. Fire ran through his veins, and that kept him warm enough.

He didn't know the difference between dreams and memories anymore. Did it matter, when both of them haunted his sleep? Cloud walked the bike away from the building. Seventh Heaven wasn't where he needed to be. Slowly he made his way out of the alleyway, and into the street. Tifa didn't need to be awake this early, especially not to the sound of him leaving. Once he hit the end of the block, the time came to take flight. The bike shuddered to life beneath him, stiff in the cold, and away he went. Wind clawed at his shoulders and nose, but the air felt fresh. Free. The bedroom was too small for the discord in his heart, but the road was just big enough.

Just a quick ride. Cloud had no intention of fighting the morning commuters. With no destination in mind, he idly passed block after block, turning this way or that as the whim hit. At red lights, he would just hug the right curb and continue his flight, and if a green light had no oncoming traffic, he might lean into a left turn. Cloud found himself leaving the mismatched buildings of the lower west end, and lines of brick townhouses suddenly surrounded him. Trees lined the road, filling the spaces between the stoops. Their roots pushed ripples into the thin sidewalks, straining the concrete to a breaking point.

The bike slowed for an upcoming red light, and Cloud coasted to a stop. There was no right turn, so with a leg bracing the weight, he waited. It seemed arbitrary, waiting at a red light before 5 in the morning, but Cloud wasn't in a rush. He could enjoy the scenery. He took a breath in, catching scents on the breeze like some kind of dog. Exhaust, from either himself or a bus that had passed by earlier. Floor cleaner. And... something that gnawed away at the edge of Cloud's memory.

Or, who knew. Maybe a dream.

Cloud took a long drag of fresh city air, trying to place that missing scent among all the rest. It felt dry, dry but not dusty, with something that stung his memory more than his nose. Smoke? Cloud found himself glancing around, as if by some miracle he could see a cigarette butt burning on the side of the road. But it wasn't any cigarette, or even a cigar. It was... incense.

He furrowed his brow. "What kind of lunatic burns incense this early?" he murmured, the sound of his voice washed away by the bike before it reached his own ears. So he... turned the key. Silence came in around him quickly, like a wave more than a vacuum. It was stifling. Cloud walked the bike to the side of the road, tucking it behind a car before parking it.

It felt like a dream after all.

His eyes rose to the lowest line of windows, drifting from one to another, and then up to the half-moon windows above. Cloud couldn't see any faint wisps of smoke coming from the lunettes, but when he closed his eyes, light poured from the window behind him like a green sun rising for him alone. He paused. He breathed the incense. He turned, but stood on the broken sidewalk for a moment longer. He knew where he was.

He didn't feel any of the footsteps between the sidewalk and the landing of the stoop. 

Cloud's eyes were filled with that green light. The invisible radiance cascaded over him. A hand rose to the door, but instead of knocking, his fingers grasped the knob. The long night robbed the metal of its heat, and it robbed his hand in retaliation. But that was all. It turned without resistance, and Cloud passed through the stone scrollwork entryway and into the building. The door clicked closed behind him.


	7. Panhandling from the gods: The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once Cloud put his first spell together, Sephiroth had wasted no time in casting it. It was a little much to take in all at once, wasn't it? More like being swept up than anything else. Back then, Cloud didn't realize what he was asking for, or what the cost would be.
> 
> [Directly continued from Chapter 5]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for missing a week! Life happened, as it tends to. Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

* * *

_It was a simple spell.  
But still, he'd needed help to cast it._

When Cloud woke up, his nose hurt from being pressed into the window for so long. He blinked against the dappled sunlight, still a little carsick from the ride out of the city— He'd passed out almost immediately, but not quick enough to avoid the nausea. Wherever Sephiroth was bringing him, they weren't there yet. Cloud lifted his head and squinted at the scenery. Everything around them looked green. Instead of a road, the car jostled slowly along a gravel path. Sephiroth drove with his window half open, but without any music playing, so all he heard was the gravel crunching beneath the tires. With all of that figured out, Cloud yawned and leaned his cheek back into the window.

"Good morning," Seph hummed, not taking his eyes from the road. "A minute later, and your timing would have been perfect."

"I could go back to sleep," Cloud offered with a drowsy rasp. His eyes were adjusting now, and while he couldn't recognize the woods they were driving through, he got the idea that they weren't anywhere he'd heard of before anyway.

"And leave me to cast your spell? I would have left you at my father's house," he answered. Cloud could hear the smile in his voice, even if it didn't make it to his face. Somehow, curled up in the passenger seat of Sephiroth's car, he felt more comfortable than the living room he kept finding himself in.

As Sephiroth brought the car to a stop, Cloud peeled himself off the door and got out. He took a couple steps, stretching and wobbling from his nap, before turning back to grab the spell paper from the passenger seat. The small golden packet gleamed, and when he picked it up, he could feel the weight of the tiny crystal Sephiroth had tucked in among the herbs. "That would have sucked," he mumbled to himself, then realized that Sephiroth was standing just on the other side of the car, waiting for him with pointed eye contact. Of course Sephiroth saw that, he saw every misstep. But since his— teacher? Boyfriend? Since Sephiroth didn't acknowledge it, he chose to pretend he hadn't said anything. "Where to next?"

"Follow me," he instructed, and began toward a path into the trees. Cloud followed, of course. He was ready for a hike. His sneakers met the uneven terrain with familiar ease, maybe even more ease than the ever-composed Sephiroth. There were perks to growing up in a mountain town in the middle of nowhere, but this was one he'd never have guessed. He saw the toe of Sephiroth's boot bump off a raised root. For once, Cloud felt like he was the master and Sephiroth was some tourist here to take in the scenery.

...No, no, he couldn't get cocky now. Not when all he had was a little piece of paper with leaves folded into it, and Sephiroth was carrying a satchel of who knew what.

Cloud wasn't sure how long they'd walked in silence before the trees opened up to a clearing. A wind swept through as he stepped out of the leafy cover, like it would at the top of a mountain, but this cold didn't have anything to do with elevation. Did it? The scenery had turned from ferns and underbrush to bald, jagged rock. Gold-lit greens to hard grey, watched over by a red setting sun. It was a stark dropoff from the woods they'd been hiking through, but Sephiroth hadn't stopped when they met the edge of the trees. He didn't seem to notice the land had changed, or more likely, this is what he was looking for.

Still, Cloud followed in Sephiroth's wake. Since he stepped out of the woods he'd felt... something. Excited was what he wanted to call it, but a strange sensation wouldn't leave him alone. Like waiting for a glass to break after it falls. Anticipation? Cloud might have spent all night reading Sephiroth's magic books, but now that they were actually out here, he felt...

Cloud realized that it was quiet out here. No birds, no bugs, just the sound of the wind and Sephiroth's voice. "I hope you've had your mind on the task at hand," he said, leading them out farther into the expanse. Cloud shook his head, pushing aside the cold and the doubt as he crossed the rocky terrain. If he was going to try something like this to help his mom, he wasn't going to half-ass it in front of his— "Remember your intention. Fill in the details. Visualize the life you want to manifest. Layer it upon itself, make it strong enough to become reality. Don't get distracted."

The final command jarred him out of thinking about the spell, and settled him into the spell itself. He didn't remember the exact words he wrote on the inside of the spell paper, but out here on what felt like a mountaintop, he felt it stronger than ever. His mom worked so hard. She was alone now. She needed the support. She didn't just need money, she needed a life that would be kinder to her than he'd ever been.

"Yeah," came his answer, too focused on his mom to think about a good reply. He felt fierce, like the cold wind was nothing against the fire in his veins. Sephiroth paused, placing his hand on a lone boulder, then finally looked back to meet Cloud's gaze. His lips curled into a smile, pleased. Or it might have been a smirk of amusement at how into it Cloud was getting.

"You won't be casting this spell alone," he repeated his promise. From his satchel, he pulled an odd looking pencil and let it settle comfortably into his grasp. "Open yourself. Open yourself to me, and only me. Let me guide your energy. Kneel." That caught Cloud off guard again, mouth open to protest, but Sephiroth laughed and turned away, drawing ashy symbols onto the surface of the boulder without explanation. Cloud leaned a little closer and realized that a cracked hollow in the rock was deeper than he thought. Inside he could see a waxy green surface and a wick. A candle? Cloud looked around, realizing how many similar boulders were scattered nearby. This whole area, the rough stone clearing surrounded by a sea of trees... Cloud wasn't an expert, but was the entire clearing Sephiroth's altar?

Suddenly, a match was in Sephiroth's hand, struck to life along the stone candle holder with practiced ease. He dropped the flame into the sconce. "With this flame, we send our will to the universe," he recited as he gestured to the warm glow within cold stone. "And in Mother's generosity, she ensures the will of her child becomes reality."

Cloud looked down into the flame, strong and steady, sheltered from the wind that stung at his cheeks. Even Sephiroth's hair was tossed around, like it was part of the storm. But the candle was hidden deep within the stone, like it was reaching up from the center of the earth. This space was the tenuous connection between earth and sky. Cloud was wrong. _The planet was Sephiroth's altar._

"Kneel, and accept my power. Together, our strength will manifest this new reality. Together, I will keep you safe from any entity that would harm you. With me, only Mother can touch you. Do you accept?"

Sephiroth looked down at him, his eyes burning green with intensity as Cloud lowered his knees to the ground. He could feel the wind tugging at the edges of his little spell packet, like it was trying to tear the paper from his grasp. Long white hair fluttered and swirled around the two of them like a living thing, every now and then a shock reaching out to caress Cloud's shoulder or cheek. Sephiroth didn't stop smiling, but Cloud was too awestruck to think to return it. He was watching from a thousand miles away.

"I accept."

"Then embrace me." Sephiroth laid his hand on Cloud's shoulder this time. He almost saw— Did he really see—? "State your intention, and cast your spell into the flame."

"Make my mom happy. Whatever she needs," he said, dropping the gold packet into the flame. The paper blackened almost instantly in the heat. A glow crackled across the surface of the paper, but as Cloud watched, the flame blazed green as it consumed the herbs inside. He searched for the crystal, but even as the paper turned to ash and floated up and away with the heat, he didn't catch sight of it.

Cloud didn't feel the cold of the wind anymore. Maybe he'd adjusted to it.

The pair waited in silence as the wind cleared out the rest of the ash from the hollow. The flame quietly extinguished itself, but it didn't feel like a lackluster puff of smoke. It had business to tend to. It seemed like all at once, the weight lifted from his chest. The sun finally sank beneath the horizon, and with the last reaches of sunset now fading, the scenery took on the cool blues and purples of night. Like nothing had happened here at all. Cloud smiled, now that it was over. It was like Seph's Mother had cleaned up after them. She would take care of his mom too, he could feel it.

After an eternity of wordless thought, they found each other's eyes. Sephiroth extended a hand to Cloud, and he took hold as Seph pulled him up from kneeling on the hard stone. 

"Thanks." His voice felt rough.

"Of course." Sephiroth's felt... warm?

Cloud shook out his legs, then stretched a little. Sephiroth looked out across the rocky space, surveying it one last time before they headed back to the car. The walk back seemed a lot faster than the walk up, and the drive home only took about twenty minutes. They were a lot closer to home than Cloud realized.

Home? Well... It was home for now. He wasn't sure if this magic thing was real or something out of a comic book Seph had read, but he was sure he'd find out soon enough. Until then...


End file.
